


The One to Walk in the Sun

by butterflyslinky



Series: Mrs. America [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Always Female Bucky, Canon-Typical Violence, Cyndi Lauper, F/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2544839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all days are good. Then again, they never have been. (Song fic to "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One to Walk in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Operation SHEBA." Was originally just supposed to be a cute songfic, but as usual, got out of hand. Unbetaed.

Most days were good. Most days, Becky and Steve got up and went about their lives like nothing had happened. They woke up early, went running with Sam, had breakfast at a little local diner run by the granddaughter of one of the soldiers from the 107th who insisted on giving them a severe discount in spite of Steve’s protests that it wasn’t necessary. Becky went to school on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and counselling sessions on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Steve usually had to report to Stark Tower for a debriefing of some sort, but they were both home by six, when Steve would cook dinner and Becky would study or do an exercise assigned by one of her counselors. After dinner, they would sit down on the couch and watch TV, or read, or just snuggle for a while before going to bed, sleep in each other’s arms, innocent and chaste.

Those were the good days.

Today was not one of them.

That was fairly normal, too. Sam told Steve that it was going to happen, and that it was amazing how much progress Becky had made in just six months. The fact that they had more good days than bad was encouraging. But that didn’t make the bad days any easier.

Steve could always tell when it was going to be a bad day. Usually, that was because he woke up in the early hours of the morning with Becky’s hands wrapped around his throat, or scratching at his face and chest, cold metal cutting his skin. These were mornings when Steve would have to fight her, trying not to hurt either of them. This rarely worked, and Becky would usually come back to herself panting, with Steve pinning her down and a few accidental bruises on her. 

They never went back to sleep after those incidents. They would embrace, and cry, and apologize to each other for all the injuries they traded, even if they faded by the time the sun rose. Once they finished crying, Steve would get up and make them each a cup of cocoa, and then they’d sit and watch movies or listen to the radio all day. Everyone understood if they didn’t show up to their respective commitments. Sam would sometimes come to cook dinner for them, or Natasha would slip in with takeout and slip out again before Steve noticed her. Becky never attacked them, even though she knew the moment someone so much as passed their door.

Today was one of the bad days, starting at four AM with Becky’s metal hand connecting with Steve’s nose. He had woken instantly and managed to avoid the next hit and catch her wrist. An hour’s struggle to bring her back, another hour of crying and apologizing, and here they were, at seven in the morning, Steve’s nose no longer bleeding and pushed back into place, with Becky wrapped in a blanket, clutching a mug of cocoa and staring straight ahead, blue eyes full of tears. Steve had offered to turn on a movie, but she shook her head; her eyes weren’t ready to see yet. So Steve turned on the radio and sat down, careful not to touch her until she said it was all right.

“Good morning, Brooklyn!” the DJ called. “Sunny skies up ahead today, high of seventy degrees. Getting a little colder tonight, with a low of forty, but don’t let that slow you down, cause we’ve got all your favorite hits from the 80s all weekend long, and to kick us off, here’s Cyndi Lauper.”

A blaring, cheerful tune started and Becky’s head jerked up as a loud, brash woman started to sing words that were strange, and yet…

She grabbed for her Starkphone and started looking up the song.

“Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”—Cyndi Lauper, $.99.

Steve looked confused as Becky lept up and ran for her credit card, tapping excitedly on her phone as the song played, cheerful and loud and yet a bit desperate. But a moment later, she was back on the couch, listening to it end on the radio, smiling a bit and leaning on Steve’s shoulder as the next song began to play.

*

Steve didn’t mention that incident again until a few days later, when he was cooking breakfast and Becky was taking a shower. He hadn’t even thought about it again until he heard Becky singing, her voice a bit lower than Cyndi’s, but just as loud.

He smiled and hummed along with her. The song was just long enough for her to finish showering, and for him to finish cooking, so when she came out, he handed her a plate. “Great concert,” he commented.

She blushed a bit. “It’s just a happy song,” she mumbled. “I like it a lot.”

“You’ve learned all the words.”

“Super-serum. Gives us picture-perfect memory. Besides…” She hesitated. “I feel like it’s about me.”

Steve looked a bit confused. “Huh?”

She put her Starkphone down on the table and pressed a button so that Cyndi started singing again. “Listen to the words, Steve,” she said. “Really listen.”

He did so, but he could see she was far away, already remembering.

*

_I come home in the morning light_   
_My mother says when you gonna live your life right_   
_Oh mama, we're not the fortunate ones_   
_And girls they want to have fun_   
_Oh girls just want to have fun._

Becky was seventeen and had just finished her nurse’s training. She was put on the evening shift at the hospital, working from four until midnight. It was the second-least desirable shift offered, after the midnight to eight AM, and new nurses got put on it often. 

But most days, that was all right. Her parents were happy she was working, and she was happy she had extra money for both herself and for Steve and his constantly-failing health. Of course, she didn’t get to see her beau very often, since he worked with the WPA from eight until four, but they both got Fridays off, and she assured him that once she’d worked her way up and bribed a few key doctors, she’d move to the day shift.

It was a good arrangement until the day Sarah Rogers pulled her aside as Becky was leaving and Sarah was coming in.

“Steve,” she said. “Pneumonia. I got Mrs. Mackleroy downstairs keeping an eye on him for a few minutes, but she’s got the little ones to worry about and…”

“I’ll take care of him,” Becky promised. “Sure it won’t scandalize the neighbors?”

Sarah looked desperate. “He’s too sick for that to be a problem, they know that. And if your mama asks, I was there the whole time.”

Becky nodded and hurried back to Steve’s building. She knew where the key was and let herself in, hurrying into Steve’s room.

He lay in bed, sleeping fitfully, each breath sounding like a death rattle. Becky collapsed into the chair that Sarah had obviously vacated and touched his forehead. His fever was still spiking. Becky sighed and prepared herself for a long night.

Steve started coughing an hour later, loud, rasping coughs that shook his entire body. Becky quickly moved to keep him from falling off the bed. He woke up a minute after it started, but he couldn’t speak to her, just kept coughing, clutching at his chest.

Becky held him up as long as she could, rubbing slow circles on his back until the fit stopped and he collapsed again. “Okay,” she whispered. “Just breathe for a moment, Stevie…in, out, in out…” He did as instructed and his breathing eased a bit. “I’m gonna get you some water, okay?” she said. “Just keep breathing for me…I’ll be right back.”

The apartment was so small that Becky was able to get to the kitchen and fetch a glass in under a minute, but she was still relieved to find Steve still breathing when she got back. She helped him sit up and drink, keeping him steady. Once he had finished the glass, she laid him down and fetched another to keep on hand. “Becky,” he whispered, but she shushed him.

“Go back to sleep, Stevie,” she ordered. “I’m gonna stay right here until your mama gets home…you just rest now.”

He did manage to get back to sleep for a while, but he woke up every hour or so, coughing or choking, prompting Becky to move to help him again. She found some aspirin in a cupboard, which she gave him around three in the morning to help the pain, though it didn’t seem to make much difference. So Becky resigned herself to holding his hand through the night, not daring to sleep for a moment in case twenty minutes was enough to kill him. And with Steve’s asthma, it could have been.

His fever broke around six, and his breathing improved a bit. He didn’t wake again after that, but Becky still didn’t move, monitoring his pulse and breathing, praying that this wasn’t the end of him. That he would survive just one more night…

Sarah came back at 8:30, by which point Becky could barely think of anything except her prayers for Steve. She reported on the night and then took her leave, stumbling down the street to her own building and hauling herself up the stairs and into her family’s apartment.

Her mother was standing at the stove, cooking dinner for the younger sisters. “Where were you?” she demanded as soon as Becky staggered in. “I’ve been worried sick!”

“Steve’s got pneumonia,” Becky mumbled. “Mrs. Rogers needed help.”

“Mrs. Rogers works nights! Do you mean to tell me you were sitting in an apartment alone with that boy all night long?”

“She took the night off…but she needed to sleep…he couldn’t…”

“You need to sleep, too! Rebecca Jane Barnes, when are you going to live right and stop chasing after a boy who can’t offer you anything but pretty pictures?”

Becky didn’t answer, just dragged herself to the bedroom and slammed the door.

*

_The phone rings in the middle of the night_   
_My father yells what you gonna do with your life_   
_Oh daddy dear you know you're still number one_   
_But girls they want to have fun_   
_Oh girls just want to have…_

Becky was eighteen and a half and had moved to the day shift. The other nurses at the hospital liked her, as did most of the doctors, and it was easy to get them to shuffle the schedules around so she had the eight to four shift. It meant working normal hours, seeing Steve in the evenings. They went out dancing sometimes, though Steve was terrible at it, and they saw a lot of pictures together. 

They were happy. They fit together well, even if Becky’s parents not-so-secretly wished for better. Becky didn’t care. She had Steve, who was good and kind and noble, who would defend her honor even if she could defend it herself, and she couldn’t see why his small stature and ill health made any difference to who he was. And Steve had her, and she could take care of him, and he could call on her any time he needed.

But it was still a shock when the telephone rang at two in the morning, waking the entire household. George Barnes went to answer it, grumbling to himself, and his voice was less than happy when he shouted up, “BECKY! IT’S THAT BOY!”

Becky grabbed her dressing gown and dashed down, practically snatching the phone from her father’s hand. Steve and his mother didn’t have a telephone, so it must have been an emergency. “Steve?” she gasped.

“Becky,” he said quietly. “Mama…”

“Steve, what happened? Is she all right?”

“She got infected. In the TB ward…the doctors say they don’t expect her to last too long.”

“Oh.” Becky swallowed. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Let me put some clothes on.” She hung up and dashed back up the stairs, dressing faster than ever before, her father gaping after her.

As she rushed to the door, though, he caught her wrist. “Where are you going?” George demanded.

“Steve’s ma is sick,” she said. “TB…she’s not gonna make it. I have to be with him.”

“Becky,” George said firmly. “Do you really mean to marry him? Keep being a nurse for the rest of your life? Looking after him, earning the main income?”

Becky glared. “If that’s what he needs,” she said. “Besides, I like being a nurse. It’s challenging…it gives me a purpose.” With that, she pulled away and rushed to Steve’s apartment.

She stayed with him all that night, and for several nights after, only leaving to go to her shifts at the hospital—if Steve was going to be on his own soon, he would need help keeping his apartment. She didn’t care what the neighbors said. It was all innocent. She slept on the couch, too cautious to go into Sarah’s room. Steve had offered his bed, but she refused. “You need your strength, Stevie,” she said.

The news came a week later that Sarah had passed. Steve sighed resignedly and told Becky to go home. That she’d done enough and he wanted to be alone.

Becky went back to her family’s apartment. Her parents looked at her and sighed, but said nothing as she went up to her room and fell on the bed, crying.

*

_That's all they really want_   
_Some fun_   
_When the working day is done_   
_Girls - they want to have fun_   
_Oh girls just want to have fun_

Becky had just turned nineteen and things were beginning to be okay again. Steve was still sad, but that was to be expected. At least he went out with her again. At least he left his apartment, actually. Becky had worried that she had pushed him too much to go out more, but he told her it was good. That he needed someone to push him.

So she pulled him out of mourning, hauling him to whatever events she could find, making him live again. “I don’t want you to always be sad,” she said. “She didn’t want that, either. So come on. Let’s have some fun.”

It was early in the winter and she didn’t want him to be too cold. That was what Sarah always told her—never let Steve get too cold. His heart can’t take it. Steve hadn’t been paying much attention to anything, but Becky had, and she knew what she wanted to show him. She pulled him to a theater and asked for tickets to the new picture, please, and nudged Steve to pass over the money she’d given him before they left. Steve didn’t even pay attention to where they were until he glanced around and saw the theater was packed. “Becky, what are we even seeing?”

“That picture from Disney,” she said. “The one that’s a cartoon, but movie-length. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, but settled in to watch it, his hand clutching at Becky’s to ensure himself that she was still there.

And then it started and Becky could tell Steve was entranced by everything. The colors may have been muted for him, but she could still see Steve gaping at the Queen’s majestic form, at Snow White’s pretty innocence, at the dwarfs and their different quirks. His hand gripped hers tightly when the huntsman made to kill Snow White, relaxed again as they met the dwarfs, and then turned vice-like as the Queen transformed into the ugly hag. She heard him laugh quietly along with the antics on screen, saw him smile at the music, and when Snow White bit the apple and lay dead on her bed, she felt his hand shaking as he suppressed tears. When it was over, Snow White woken by the prince she’d barely spoken to, Becky led Steve out, his eyes still bright with emotion.

“I wanna work for Disney,” he said as they headed home. “Gonna go to California and learn to make the cartoons like that…buy us a big house and have everything. What do you think, Becky?”

“Sounds wonderful, Steve,” she said.

*

_Some boys take a beautiful girl_  
 _And hide her away from the rest of the world_  
 _I want to be the one to walk in the sun_  
 _Oh girls they want to have fun_  
 _Oh girls just want to have…_  
Becky was twenty and Steve asked her to marry him.

Becky was twenty-one and she went to war.

Becky was twenty-two and Zola destroyed her.

Becky was twenty-three and she died.

Becky was ninety-four and she was alive again.

“Steve,” she said as he smiled at Cyndi Lauper’s voice. “Can we go out tonight?”

He looked up anxiously. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I can’t stay locked away forever. I wanna see this city. Wanna go dancing with you, wanna see the latest pictures…I’m ready to go somewhere besides here, the park, the doctor’s, and school.”

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll go out tonight, after we’re done with work.”

_That's all they really want_   
_Some fun_   
_When the working day is done_   
_Girls - they want to have fun_   
_Oh girls just want to have fun,_   
_They want to have fun,_   
_They want to have fun..._


End file.
